


Coffee Dependency

by leighwrites



Series: Land of Rarepairs [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Stanlon - Freeform, That is all, plus coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 21:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17589095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighwrites/pseuds/leighwrites





	Coffee Dependency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tinyarmedtrex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyarmedtrex/gifts).



One of the things Mike loved about working in his local coffee shop was that he rarely saw the same customer more than a small handful of times, and the ones he did see more than once were generally college students getting their fix before a day of tough gruelling classes that were going to suck the energy clean out of them. Over the course of his one year of working there, Mike had come to see that he had an exception to the rule of only seeing the same person once in a while.

He had three of them, actually, and they had become regulars to the coffee shop. It was to the point that Mike knew the exact minute they would walk through the door on the way to class and knew each of them by name and drink order. The three of them were chronic opposites and Mike couldn’t work out how they were such a close, tight knit trio.

First there was Richie, the caramel frappuccino drinker; tall, dark, and fucking  _ loud _ . It was like dealing with an over excited puppy most of the time, so one of his friends always had to do their orders. There were very rare times that Mike didn’t see Richie drowning in his slightly too big black and white letterman jacket. He was always happy, even on the days Mike picked up he  _ should  _ have been nervous because he had a soccer game that day.

He was pretty sure that Richie didn’t know the meaning of ‘nervous’.

Secondly there was Eddie, the kid who drank a nonfat soy latte at a kids temperature because ‘if I can’t drink it right away then what’s the fucking point, Richie?’ Eddie didn’t look like someone who would be friends with Richie. Eddie dressed in slightly baggy clothes, always wore either a black or grey beanie and came with a skateboard equipped to his back like an extra limb. Mike had _ never  _ seen him without it.

Mike supposed that in some ways Richie and Eddie  _ would  _ be friends. Skating  _ was _ a sport of some kind after all, and from what he’d picked up from general conversations he could hear them have in the line, Eddie took part in competitive skating to his mother’s displeasure.

And then there was Stan. Stan ordered the same coffee with a shot of espresso in it every day and Mike couldn’t figure out how he was friends with the other two. There was no kind of sport under his belt that he knew of. At least with Eddie there was  _ something  _ that he and Richie had in common, but Stan had nothing. 

Stan wore neat and somewhat tight clothes and came with a sleeve of bird tattoos on his right arm and phone attached in his hand constantly, and from the folder always tucked under his left arm, it was easy to deduce that he was an art student. Mike had witnessed numerous events when Richie had snagged the phone from him and threatened to drop it into one of their drinks to get him off it.

They were so different to each other; the hyperactive jock, the short tempered skater, and silent reclusive tattoo’d art student.

And almost every day at nine in the morning, the three of them would enter the coffee shop and join the line, Richie talking excitedly while Eddie complained about his loudness so early in the morning and Stan scrolled through his phone for god only knew what reason.

It was towards May when that routine shifted, completely throwing Mike off. Stan came in with his friends one morning, and then he was back after what Mike assumed was when his classes ended. This happened for a week straight, and then two, and then three, but it was the third week when Stan suddenly appeared three times a day; before classes, in the middle of the day, and then after classes.

It threw him on the fifth week when Stan said he was drinking in. His coffee totals of the day going from three to four. By the start of May, Stan was drinking five or six coffees a day, most of which he drank in the shop, the folder open on the table in front of him as he gripped a pencil in one hand and sketched away.

It was on the seventh week that Mike just  _ had  _ to ask. He’d been serving Stan the same drink five or six times a day and his coffee dependency was… concerning to say the least.

“I have to ask, Stan, because I’m a little concerned about how much of this you’re drinking.” Mike admitted, handing the styrofoam cup over to Stan. “Are you like… okay?”

Stan blinked, his hand barely seeming to hold the cup, fingers just a  _ little  _ shaky. “I’m okay. I mean… everything is moving in super slow motion, it feels like I defibbed my brain and I can  _ literally  _ hear colours but I’m okay.”

“You,” Mike paused, torn between being amused by Stan’s wording and being concerned for his health, “ _ hear  _ colours? I don’t think that’s  _ normal  _ Stan.”

Stan furrowed his brow. “I… maybe.”

“I think you need to… maybe dial back the coffee intake a little.”

Stan laughed, but the sound was somewhat bitter, before bringing the cup to his mouth to drink. “Can’t do that, Mikey. Not until these stupid finals are over.”

Mike frowned as Stan walked off, picking a table near the window and setting his folder down. Finals were tough, he knew that from experience two years ago. Beverly had suddenly started to drink a  _ hell  _ of a lot of energy drinks and Ben had stopped eating. Hell, all three of them had stopped eating for the most part. The constant studying pushed the idea from their minds.

“Hey Bev,” Mike called over his shoulder, grabbing the attention of his redheaded co-worker who turned away from the coffee machine to face him, “I need a favour when you go for your break.”

Stan was startled by the sudden appearance of a small plate on his work with a single croissant on it that halted his sketching. He looked up at the redhead barista who had put it down, brow furrowing in confusion.

“I didn’t order this.”

Beverly smiled down at him. “I know,” she slipped a card onto the table, tapping a violet painted nail against it, “it’s on us.”

Stan looked down at the card as the woman walked off, staring at the somewhat surprisingly neat and cursive handwriting.  **You should eat before you pass out.**

It had become a regular thing. Stan noticed that it happened whenever he was in the coffee shop for more than two hours after classes, never when he was there with Richie and Eddie for thirty minutes or so on the rare occasion that they stayed in to drink, and Stan couldn’t figure out just  _ who _ kept sending him food with the little reminders on a card that he needed to eat something.

It wasn’t until one Saturday when he’d been in the coffee shop for four hours that afternoon that he figured it out. He grabbed the styrofoam cup, pausing as he caught sight of the writing on the cup; a neat and cursive print of his name. Stan stared at it for a moment, the realisation sinking in as the cup slid from his hand, fortunately not high enough from the table to fall onto its side and spill out onto his work.

_ Mike. _

The answer had been there right in front of him the whole time. Mike had voiced his concerns about Stan’s coffee intake, Mike served him every drink. Mike’s writing was always there on the cup. Mike had been the one making sure he ate  _ something  _ no matter how small of a meal it was just to make sure there was something else in his system.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Stan’s head shot up to stare at the speaker;  _ Mike _ . “I uh… think I’m starting to see sounds and… sorry I gotta… go.”

Stan gathered up the drink and his work quickly and scrambled from the chair; hastily leaving the coffee shop.

Mike didn’t see Stan for three weeks. It was concerning really, after seeing him for so long, and part of him was  _ positive  _ that Stan had figured out what he was doing. Had he stepped over a line when he was trying to help? Mike didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to let him starve himself because of his college stress. Stan had always looked like he hadn’t slept in days and was relying on pure coffee to get him through each day.

Okay, concerning was an understatement. It was downright  _ worrying _ .

“I’m so fuckng pumped right now. I can’t believe we fucking won. I thought we were done for when Bill got tackled like that. Never seen a man go down so damn fast.” Richie’s voice drifted over to the counter one saturday afternoon, loud as ever.

Mike looked up from the cup he was writing on to see Richie, dressed in his soccer uniform and covered in mud. He could feel the happiness radiating off him because they’d  _ won  _ a match; something that he’d learned over the year was a  _ rare  _ occurrence.

“ _ I _ can’t believe you didn’t want to go home first to take a damn shower and change your clothes.” Eddie glanced to Richie, nose wrinkling somewhat. “I am  _ not  _ touching you until you’re mud free.”

“Wha - that’s not fair! Celebratory victory kisses are a  _ necessity  _ after I just almost broke my leg, arm, and god knows what else _. _ ”

“Absolutely not. You’re disgusting right now.”

“He’s got a point, Richie.” Stan spoke up as he looked up from his phone, and Mike found his attention zeroing in on him. He actually looked well rested now and not like some coffee fuelled zombie. “You’re a literal mud monster. I wouldn’t wanna kiss you either.”

“Aw, Stannita, are you saying you’d kiss me if I  _ didn’t  _ look like a mud monster right now?” Richie asked, leaning towards Stan with a grin.

Stan scowled, and Mike bit back a laugh as he served his next customer. “Absolutely fucking not. Never. Not even if you were the last guy on Earth, Tozier.”

“That was needlessly mean.” Richie huffed, stepping back while Eddie tried his best, and failed, to hold his laughter in. “Wow - okay - I feel ganged up on now.”

“Are you trying to imply this  _ isn’t _ your daily life?” Eddie asked, bumping his arm against Richie’s. “Because  _ boy  _ do I have news for you.”

“This is domestic abuse.”

“I - you know what I’m not even entertaining you with a response.” Stan tapped his foot idly off the ground, looking down at his phone. “Go find a seat mud monster, and take your gremlin with you.”

Whatever Eddie was about to no doubt shout at him was cut off by Richie’s hand clamping over his mouth as he pulled Eddie out of the line to find a table. Stan rolled his eyes somewhat affectionately as he heard Eddie shrieking about the muddy hand on his face. They were a constant in his life, and he wouldn’t have them any other way.

“Hey Stan.” Mike greeted, professionally as ever. “Let me guess, one weird caramel frappuccino, one nonfat soy latte at kids temperature and one coffee with a shot of espresso.”

He didn’t miss the smile on Stan’s face at how well Mike knew their drinks now. It was rare that he  _ actually  _ had to order. “Yes to the gross frappuccino, yes to the latte only a kid can drink and no to the coffee.”

“No?” Mike repeated, the confusion clear on his face.

“Nope. Just tea.”

“Any reason for the sudden change that’s throwing my brain out of gear?”

Stan smiled, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Well, someone recently made me see that I drank just a  _ little  _ too much coffee. It was unhealthy really. I could see colours I believe.”

“Yeah that sounds like a problem.” Mike said, returning the smile and playing along. “Sounds like you have a good friend there.”

“He’s not a friend, really, but he should be. He took good care of me during finals.”

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like a friend you want. How’d you want that tea?”

Stan shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. “Surprise me. I’ve never had it before. And uh, Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for uh… you know… making sure I didn’t actually die from caffeine overdose.”

“Anytime Stan.” Mike grabbed three of the cups, taking a moment to write the drink and names onto them. “If you take a seat I’ll bring them over.”

“Right. One more thing.” Stan slid something onto the counter with the money for the drinks. “Text me sometime. I uh… wanna thank you properly for what you did.”

“Stan… are you trying to ask me out?”

“Kind of. Maybe? Unless that’s not what you want then this never happened.”

Stan was gone before Mike could respond, leaving the amused barista to chuckle to himself. He watched him join Richie and Eddie who were still arguing about something, only stopping when Stan joined them. Whatever it was, Eddie clearly won on account of them stopping, leaving a displeased Richie almost  _ sulking  _ in his chair.

“Okay one gross caramel concoction,” Mike placed Richie’s drink down onto the table before grabbing the next one, “one kid friendly drink and one tea that broke my brain.” He placed the last two drinks down, effortlessly spinning the tray under his arm as he made his way back to the counter.

Stan stared at the cup in front of him, a soft smile appearing on his face. Mike had made sure to put it down so his order and name faced him along with a series of numbers that Stan programmed into his phone instantly.

Maybe his chronic coffee dependency hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.


End file.
